


Why Jane left Rochester

by brontevindicator



Category: The Autobiography of Jane Eyre
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-01-10
Packaged: 2018-01-08 06:17:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1129305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brontevindicator/pseuds/brontevindicator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From Jane's perspective. She writes a letter to Rochester.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Jane left Rochester

My dearest Love,

By the time you see this, I would have gone - gone from you, and most importantly, gone from my former self. There are so many things left to tell that I didn't say, because it was too painful to utter, and if I am to be entirely honest with myself, I didn't want to believe them. I tried to deny it.

It seemed too good to be true. Our union never seemed to be real in my imagination - only a vague, passing dream that I wanted to believe in. I wanted to believe that I was capable of having a long, committed relationship, and I think for some time it did seem to be a possibility. But deep in my heart of hearts, I always suspected it was a lie.

Those days, I felt that loving you, and being loved by you was the only time I had ever felt truly alive. My heart had been dormant for years; I had known no affection from anyone except Helen, and being in love for the first time does tricks to your mind. The truth is, our love was never living, because it was never real. It was only a dream founded on uncertainty and deception.

There were the secrets, for one thing. There were so many things I longed to know, that I wanted to ask you, but every time I made enquiries you changed the subject. I thought that in time all would come out. But I had expected it to come out of your own free will, not until the day Grace revealed the bitter truth.

But that wasn't the reason I cannot forgive you. I have already forgiven you for that. You said you had fallen for me too deeply to risk our relationship being severed. I could have forgiven a great deal more on that basis, because your love would have made me complete. The fact that I had known what it is like to be loved would have been sufficient. 

I told you that I had to leave you because of the way you have treated the women in your life. You used Blanche most cruelly, when she expected to receive a marriage proposal from you. Do you not know how it feels to have your hopes shattered? That is precisely how I feel. I never liked Blanche; to be honest she reminded me of those rich girls at school who sneered at Helen and me. Those days were lonely; I never thought that anyone would come to love me. But now I feel I can sympathise with her, because we have both been used by you. You abandoned your daughter; you cheated on your wife with me. I had never expected to be party to such a deception.

But that was not the reason I have left you. I left you not because you lied to me, but because I feared for our future together. I felt that I was a pawn in your hands, a vision you worshipped rather than loved. Your expectations were too high, and I could not live up to them. 

Did it never occur to you how painful it was, when you told me that M was "smart and passionate"? You once told me that I was smart and passionate. And yet I am nothing like M, and will never be. She was beautiful, sophisticated, and confident with the world. I understand why you fell for her. I don't blame you at all.

The truth is that you have never got over her. I was only the girl to fill her shoes, to be the next Mrs Rochester. You said you loved me, not because your love was complete, but because you were lonely and frustrated. You wanted someone nice and sympathetic to be with, that you were comfortable with. Oh, I know very well I made you comfortable, happy (to an extent) and more hopeful. I think you did believe in our love, but I was only a pale shadow to her. She was vibrant and full of life; I am shy, awkward and uninteresting. Why else did you never divorce her, after all these years? You can't let go.

I think I reminded you of her, in a way. Perhaps you saw in me the vestiges of her former self. I ought to be flattered; she was a living personality. But you never wanted me for myself; you wanted a copy of your wife. 

I always wondered what you saw in me. I never felt comfortable in the presence of your friends and associates. M would have fit in to any circle she wanted to be in. My fault was to try to force myself to enter a world entirely closed to me. Your circle dabbled in drink, drugs and wild parties. I cannot accept being part of that, not just because of my faith, but because it is something entirely against my principles and inclination - against all that is true and natural in me. You see, it is not the fact you have wasted your life in that way that draws me away, but it is the nature of your temperament and that of your friends. Some people need to be surrounded by parties and stimulants; others can't, even if they try to. Solitude energised me all these years. I could not pretend to be someone I am not. I would have felt inadequate and miserable that I could not fulfil your expectations to be a living, shining personality - what M was. And you would be disappointed in me, because I was not another M. If anything, I am more like Adele. Adele reminded me of a smarter version of my younger self. I think that was what drew me to her - the daughter you have forsaken. I saw in her a young lonely soul who had never received familial love, who sought consolation in books and knowledge. I did the same thing in my teens; my only friend apart from Helen and Miss Temple were my books, because they were a distraction, they were an entrance to a better and more welcoming world, far better than the one I could never fit into. I wanted to make sure that she was happy and loved by her father and her nanny; I didn't want to see history repeating itself. I know you've tried since then to be a father to Adele, but it's not working, is it? And if you couldn't love your own daughter for herself, then you cannot love me. You would tire of me, and come to regret your decision to be with me. I would rather escape from you while your feelings for me are still kindly; I do not want to live with you in the knowledge you dreaded and despised me.

If I am entirely honest with myself, I never understood my feelings for you. I did truly believe that I loved you. But I am a novice in love; the only love I have known all these years came from my best friend Helen. The love that poets write of was a closed book to me. I think in my solitude, I felt grateful that I had inspired love in someone. I grasped the nearest branch, thinking my life was saved, only it tormented me further. I thought I was inherently unloveable and a burden to others; and your feelings proved that I was wrong - or so I thought. I wanted to think that I had been wrong all this while. I loved you because you loved me.

But love isn't about sweet gestures and impassioned feelings; it is about fitting into the same world. I still don't know what it is like to experience this feeling, but I understand many things I hadn't understood before.

No doubt you never thought you were using me. I never expected you to. If anyone is to blame, it is myself, for being stupid enough to think I was capable of having a fulfilling relationship.

The person who brings comfort to your dark days isn't necessarily your soulmate; they're a good friend, that's all. When you are in despair the most sympathetic person will appear in the light of your true love. But that is not true. People say otherwise, but that is the last resort of desperation. 

You have never felt for me what you have felt for her. And that's the truth. That is why I am leaving you.


End file.
